Gemotions

He felt his throat constrict as Mr. Henderson clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Good news, Davis! We've found someone to take over your duties." Davis's smile felt brittle, as artificial as the potted plant in the corner of the office. It was a well-crafted deception, of course.

The newcomer, a young man named Ben, was already smiling back at Mr. Henderson. The office felt suddenly smaller, the walls closing in. He stared at Ben's eager expression, his face an unsettling mirror image of a younger, more optimistic version of himself.

"I'll show him the ropes," Davis managed, his voice sounding thin and reedy. His palms started to sweat. Every keystroke felt like a prelude to his own professional demise. The familiar clatter of the keyboard felt alien and hostile now.